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Livor’s sanctum fucking sucks.
The first thing that really registers in his mind is the fact he can’t think. There’s a sharp pain in his leg from where one of its arms(?) had grazed him— nothing like X, wet and slick, but instead sharp and painful, like claws. He groans in pain.
Barron.
breathe.
“I- I’m fucking trying,” he hisses. His leg is lame behind him; the only thing that saved him from certain death is the fact the gap he’d fled through was too small for Livor to follow him through. “H- Hey, I’m not going to die, right? I- I’ve still got my lives, right?”
i told you to breathe.
Baron breathes.
. . .but, yes.
you won’t die forever here.
but you should still be careful.
He nods. It’s hard to breathe. But he’s trying. He’s doing a good job, right? Breathing. In and out. His leg burns like it’s been drenched in lava. He hasn’t seen so much of his own blood in his life. Usually when things hit you they kill you.
It’s almost like this thing enjoys the chase more than the catching.
you still have the medical kit.
you should use it.
open the latch.
Medical... Oh, the medkit? Baron pulls out the white box he’d picked up in the oak house. “Y- You sure, man?” he asks, fumbling with the latch even as he half-protests. “Wasn’t it covered in dust?”
it will work.
He hesitates as it cracks open. “Will it?”
it will work.
He shudders, feeling another wave of damage rock through his body. “F- Fine, I’ll...” He fumbles with the contents.
do you know how to use it?
“N- Not really.” He squints. He can see some white, thick fabric-type things inside, and a few bottles, and something he thinks are bandages...
take the antiseptic bottle.
open it.
pour some of it onto the wound.
it will hurt.
He hesitates with the open bottle in his hand. “Why would I do it if it’s going to hurt?”
it will make the damage lessen quicker.
but it will hurt.
He’s still hesitating. He can’t help it.
it’s your choice.
He does it. It burns. It burns more than fire has ever burned him, it burns more than the hot red floor of the Nether; it’s a different, more terrible kind of burning. He cries out, strangled, in pain; trying to crawl away from his limb and towards it at the same time.
massage it into the wound.
He reaches out to his leg, trying to wrangle himself into a sitting position, and, tears running down his cheeks, presses his fingers to the mangled flesh. It’s been peeled from his leg in long, terrible strips. He whimpers as he plunges his fingers into the viscera, hot and wet and not clotting very much at all. It hurts.
good.
now take the bandage and wrap it around your leg.
“T- The small ones?” Baron whimpers, pained. “Those are for cuts, though?”
the white fabric.
He grabs it desperately. It’s difficult to unravel the fabric with his hands smeared in his own blood. His leg is going numb and he can barely feel the pain anymore. His foot is twitching violently. He props it up on his good leg and bends the knee so he can get the bandage under and around the swell of it.
wrap it tightly.
He repeats the motion again and again until his dulled senes register the firm press of the reddening gauze. “I- Is that good?”
you are still bleeding.
you will bleed for a while.
it will not get infected.
you should eat.
Baron crawls backwards, dragging his leg against the hard floor, and rests his back against a wall. “Do I even have any food on me?” he mumbles, wincing as he flips through his inventory. Cooked porkchop? Uh, good enough, right?
It tastes dry in his mouth.
you will be safe in here.
“Yeah, I know.”
don’t let your affection for iv get in the way.
he has deceived you.
“Yeah, you said that.” Baron winces as he swallows. “That’s... Four, right? Yeah, I’m not— Nine, trust me when I say this, I am not gonna trust that guy again.”
Nine doesn’t respond. Baron closes his eyes for a few moments and tries to breathe.
He did honestly think, for a moment, that Nine had fucked him over. But Nine wouldn’t do that to him, would it? It’s nice to him. It’s not like X, who he’s on (seemingly?) not-so-great terms with, and it’s not like IV, who is— well, who’s currently trying to rip him limb from limb— so it’s...
Nine might be his only friend in the world, honestly.
“Are we friends?” Baron asks.
And like the first time he asked, Nine doesn’t respond. Baron tries not to mind it.
After a while of waiting for the meat in his leg to knit itself together, he finally stands up. “Well, time to get moving, right?”
be careful.
“Yeah, yeah.”
Barron.
“What?”
be careful.
He rolls his eyes. “Fine, I’ll be careful.”
. . .good.
Well, he thinks he might know the answer to his question now.